Let Me Save You, Hold This Rope
by inkytears
Summary: Through two events spanned nearly ten years apart, Blaine tries to show Cooper that he's worth it.


Nights were a scary time for a young Blaine Anderson.

Six months had passed since he'd stopped begging his mother to tuck him in, but as an eight year old boy who was rather small for his age, there was usually an exception or two. Some nights he found himself lying awake, staring up at the plane mobile on his ceiling or toying with his navy blue sheets, his little fingers splaying out and clenching over the fabric.

_I'm a big boy,_ he told himself, teeth chattering against the cold wind that whipped out from the air conditioner. I _don't need mommy. I don't need daddy. I don't need Coop._

His thoughts caused his room to come alive—his dresser morphing into a hideous monster right before his eyes, and the shadows dancing about his walls like fire. In all honesty, Blaine Anderson was downright terrified; but it was 3:14 in the morning, he noticed as he glanced over at the red Power Rangers clock that sat on his bedside table. Far too late to wake up mommy or daddy anyway.

* * *

The next time he looked at his clock it read 3:27. Just as he had been drifting off, he heard a _bump_ from the hallway. Caught halfway between fear and curiosity, Blaine hesitated only a few seconds before climbing out of bed, nearly tripping over his sheets as he stumbled to his door and clumsily threw it open.

The hallway was still dark as ever. The bathroom, however, had a sliver of light creeping out from underneath the door.

Tensing up, Blaine allowed his eyes to gaze over at his parents room, but _that _door was still shut tight, the lights off entirely. There was a good chance that whatever was rummaging around in the bathroom was closely related to the monster back in Blaine's room (and was ready and willing to gobble up a yummy little 9 year old at the first opportunity) but there was a_ better_ chance that it was his older brother, who's door, Blaine realized, was open and still swinging.

"Cooper," he hissed after scrambling across the hall, "_Cooper_."

There was the sound of something tumbling down and crashing against the tile floor, and a quiet curse that Cooper probably hadn't meant for his little brother to hear. Blaine merely wondered why Cooper was talking about ducks.

"Cooper," Blaine repeated with a little more urgency. The darkness of the hallway was making him antsy.

More rummaging.

"Big brot—"

Blaine was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open and a waterfall of light spilling out. He blinked, stumbling backwards.

Cooper was standing in the doorway, his chest heaving and his hand still wrapped firmly around the doorknob that was out of Blaine's line of vision. His eyes were red rimmed, his lids unable to stop a tear that forced its way over his eyelashes as he stared down at his little brother, blinking furiously to adjust to the newfound darkness. His hair was tousled, but not in the way Blaine was used to seeing it—not "Oh yeah, I just rolled out of bed (but in actuality I spent about half an hour messing it up and fixing it all over again with gel.)" It was as if he'd run his fingers through it anxiously one too many times, and judging by the frantic expression on his face, Blaine wouldn't have doubted it.

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but Cooper beat him to the punch.

"Go back to bed, B," he choked, but his voice was hoarse and his little brother could barely make out his words. "It's late."

Blaine shook his head, trying to push past Cooper's body to get into the bathroom. "What's wrong?" he asked as he made a valiant effort to move his older brother's leg. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not, Blaine," Cooper murmured, gently ruffling the younger boy's hair as he nudged him away; but even Blaine could feel that his brother's hand was shaking, the other still firmly wrapped around the doorknob. "C'mon, I… I've gotta piss."

Screwing up his face in a mix of confusion and disgust, Blaine said quite simply, "No you don't."

Cooper's gaze faltered. He'd always been amazed with the way his little brother could take a situation and observe it fully in the course of about three seconds flat. What he lacked in age, he made up in a strange amount of maturity, and even after all these years it still caught Cooper off-guard.

"Look, B," he said, crouching down on one knee so that their faces were level. "How 'bout you go on back to bed, and I'll come check on you in a few minutes. How's that sound?" He reached out to place both hands against each of Blaine's shoulders, thereby taking the one he'd been hiding out from behind the door. Blaine noticed.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding down to Cooper's left wrist.

Cooper swallowed, quickly pulling his hand away and wrapping it behind his back. "Nothing," he whispered, and the hoarse tone was back to his voice. "Blaine, _please_ just… just go back to bed."

But Blaine, along with being rather tiny, was also extremely persistent, so he shook his head and crossed his little arms. "Mr. Anderson," he said, jutting his chin to the ceiling and trying to look official. "I command you to tell me why you're bleeding." He paused, "No really, you can tell me, Coop. M'not little anymore, remember?"

Cooper took a deep breath, his voice breaking with each syllable. "No you're not."

Blaine practically lit up at his brother's confession. "Then _tell _me," he said, nearly jumping up and down with anticipation. "Who hurt you, Cooper? I bet he's an _ass_."

Cooper's eyes grew to the size of saucer plates, their previous conversation rudely shoved to the back of his mind. "Who the hell taught you that word?"

The smaller boy shrugged. "You did? Last week when you were taking me to get ice cream. You called the cashier lady an a-s…" Blaine trailed off, screwing up his face in confusion, then eventually gave up. "Anyway, you said I should never ever ever _ever _use it."

Apparently, saying it out loud caused Blaine to realize his mistake, because he immediately hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Coop," he mumbled, digging his little socked foot into the carpet. "I didn't mean—"

"It's okay," Cooper assured him, cutting his little brother off. "Just_ please _go tuck yourself in. I'll be there in five minutes; I promise."

But, as was the Anderson way, Blaine wasn't giving up that easy.

"Tell me," he begged, his pleading little eyes of hazel meeting Cooper's of dark blue. "I don't want people hurting my brother anymore. Did you tattle on Mommy and Daddy? You should, Coop. They'll know what to do."

Cooper grinned a little at Blaine's innocence, then straightened back up so that his little brother's head was barely even with his stomach. "No, B." he said, "And you can't either, okay?"

"_Okay_," Blaine whined, growing impatient, "Just tell me who—"

Cooper shook his head. "Me. No one hurt me, Blaine; I hurt myself."

Blaine blinked up at his older brother, his face blank and unreadable. To a child his age, the idea was absolutely preposterous. Why on earth would somebody _want _to get hurt? After all, Blaine had fallen over on the playground more than enough times to realize that pain wasn't fun, and those cuts across Cooper's wrist certainly looked like they hurt quite a bit.

"Was it an accident?" Blaine asked, "Did you slip? Did you… did you fall? Did… Cooper...?"

His older brother was crying again. Tears were welling up behind his eyelids and falling fast and hot down his cheeks, though he was making an unsuccessful attempt to wipe them away as quick as possible.

"No," he whispered.

Blaine merely nodded. Curious as he was, he could tell that Cooper didn't want to tell him anything more, and quite honestly, he wasn't sure whether he really wanted to know. So rather than questioning him further, Blaine simply took one step forward and wrapped two pudgy little arms around Cooper's slim waist.

"Well don't," the younger boy mumbled into his brother's stomach, his voice muffled by Cooper's shirt. "You're so special, Coop. You shouldn't do that anymore."

Cooper nodded, but he didn't trust himself to speak as he wrapped his arms around Blaine's tiny form in return.

"Promise?" Blaine asked, glancing up at his older brother with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. "You have to promise, mkay? Actually—" He slipped out from under Cooper's arms and took a step back, then held out his arm with his pinky extended.

"Pinky promise."

And so Cooper did. He locked his much larger pinky with Blaine's as best he could, tears still falling down his face. Blaine never found out that Cooper's girlfriend had broken his heart, leading to a depression that had spanned a few months. He'd never asked, and Cooper had never taken a razor to his skin again.

That is, until his twenty-second birthday.

* * *

It had been a quiet day in the Anderson house, all the way up until dinner.

Cooper's birthday fell during the Summer holidays, so he was nearly always home unless he could manage to come up with some plausible excuse; and now that he was finished up with college and stuck in the awkward phase between finding a career rather than a job and making his way in the world, there was really no reason for him not to spend a week back in Ohio.

Other than the fact that he really, _really_ didn't want to be there of course.

All things considered, the festivities had gone alright. His mother had urged him to throw a party, to which Cooper reminded her that all his friends were back in California, and then the Anderson's had served a cake which Cooper couldn't eat, which then led to a conversation that went something like this:

"You aren't hunger, Cooper?"

"Uh… not really, Mom. Thanks."

"Go on, Cooper. Eat some cake; your mother spent hours making it."

"Dad, I'm really not—"

"Have some cake, son."

"Dad, I—"

"Cooper, just have a _small _slice of cake."

"Dad—"

"Cooper Anderson—"

"I'm allergic to motherfucking _nuts_, Goddammit."

That had led to a rather awkward silence that consisted of Cooper glaring at both his parents, and his dad glaring right back. His mother hung her head due to the sheer discomfort of the situation (and also because she'd blatantly forgotten her first son's one and only allergy), and Blaine awkwardly fiddled with his napkin.

"Cooper I—" his mom began.

"Forget it."

Cooper stood up, roughly knocking his knee against the table, which caused another loud curse to fall from his lips before he stomped upstairs to his childhood bedroom.

Without explanation, Blaine followed a moment later.

* * *

_Knock knock knock._

Cooper jumped as someone's knuckles made contact with the bathroom door not five minutes after he'd left the kitchen table.

"Occupied," he called out, quickly shutting the drawer beside the sink. "If you're here to apologize, save it."

Blaine subtly kicked the other side of the door with the toe of his shoe. "Cooper, it's me. Open up."

Freezing immediately, Cooper slowly turned towards the door to check the knob, and internally groaned when he saw that it wasn't locked. He knew Blaine wouldn't open it without permission, but he couldn't help but feel a little irritated at his own idiocy regardless.

"I'm using the toilet," he said.

"No you're not."

Trying again, he called out, "I'm… naked."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "_No_," he began, "You're not. Anyways, I've seen you naked before, Coop."

Cooper cracked a smile at that, and despite the fact that he hadn't an ounce of happiness left in his body at the moment, the knowledge that his brother was still downright blunt in only the most innocent of ways even at sixteen years was somewhat endearing.

"Yeah," Cooper said, inching away from the door and leaning back against the sink once again. "When you were like… three. _Maybe_. You wouldn't remember."

Blaine shrugged. "True; doesn't mean it didn't happen." There was a brief moment of silence in which neither boy spoke. "…Can I come in now?"

"Yeah," Cooper finally said, guiding his eyes towards the floor rather than the door that was sure to open in no time at all. "Go ahead."

And so, Blaine turned the knob without hesitation and pushed the door open, though only enough so that he could step inside—it was barely a crack, really. He'd always been rather thin, and he didn't want either of their parents to question what on earth Cooper was doing in the bathroom when Blaine didn't even know himself, so he quickly shut the door behind him.

Before three seconds had passed, the younger Anderson turned stark-white, his entire body tensing.

Cooper frowned at his brother's expression. "B, what's—"

"Your hand."

Cooper furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced down at his hand. To the best of his knowledge, there was nothing wrong with it, but after a moment he realized that it wasn't his _hand _per say, but rather what was in it.

"You said you wouldn't," Blaine murmured, his eyes still trained on the woman's razor wrapped tightly in his brother's thin fingers.

Cooper shook his head, his mind racing. "B, I… I can explain."

Blaine merely dropped his eyes and swallowed loudly as Cooper continued.

"I was just _shaving, _Blaine; honestly, you came in at the wrong time. It's not what it looks like, I swear."

Blaine's eyes found Cooper's so fast and with such intensity that the older boy nearly stumbled back in surprise.

"You're lying."

"Blaine…" Cooper began, but his younger brother simply gave his head another shake.

"I know you're not around much, Cooper," Blaine mumbled under his breath, "But I'm not stupid… and I'm not a little kid anymore." He added as an afterthought.

The two brothers stood in silence, neither of them wanting to make eye contact with the other for fear of the tension breaking entirely and all of time and space crumbling beneath it. The moment seemed to stretch on for eternities—the only sounds in the room being their breaths which refused to fall into sync, and the dripping of water from the shower head that their father refused to pay to have fixed. Eventually, Blaine couldn't take it anymore.

"Have you done it yet?" he asked.

Cooper opened his mouth to try and deny the act for what felt like the millionth time, but eventually just took a deep breath and uttered a soft, "No."

"Good," Blaine whispered, and before Cooper even had the chance to react, there were two arms wrapped around his waist and a significantly smaller body pressed against his. Warmth flooded each muscle and each vein he had, and even some he'd never even considered, like the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach that he usually associated with his gir—

_Ex _girlfriend, Riley.

"Why?" Blaine asked, his face still nuzzled into his brother's shoulder.

Cooper considered lying through his teeth, but after a moment of thought he pulled away from Blaine and told his little brother _everything._

He went into detail about how he'd proposed to his girlfriend of eight months, and that when she'd said yes it had been the happiest moment of his life. About how they'd been days from picking a wedding date—from hiring a planner and telling their parents (because honestly, that hadn't exactly been at the top of Cooper's list of priorities). About how for the first time in his life, Cooper had been completely and entirely content.

And then he told Blaine about how five weeks ago, he'd found Riley in bed with the man whom he'd thought to be his best friend, and in turn, lost both of them in the course of about five minutes. He told Blaine about how he'd been skipping classes near the end of the semester, and quite honestly, was exceedingly lucky that he'd passed at all. He told him about how he'd had nothing and no one to fall back on, and had eventually just given up all hope of finding happiness again. He told Blaine that coming back to Ohio had been his last resort at discovering people who truly cared for him, and that after dinner had come to a close, he'd finally realized how silly he'd been.

"I care about you, Coop," Blaine said at the end of his brother's story. During its span, he'd sat down on top of the closed toilet to listen intently, but at this point stood back up and placed the palm of his hand against his brother's chest—right over his heart. "I always have."

Cooper smiled a little sadly. "I know you do, Sport. But sometimes, that's not enough."

Blaine paused, then slowly rose until he was nearly on his tip-toes. "Are you sure?" he asked, locking eyes with the taller man.

Their faces were so close that their noses nearly bumped. Cooper had stopped breathing completely at this point, though he was unable to pull his own gaze away from the honey specks that were scattered across his brother's eyes, or ignore the way Blaine's breath was ghosting out over his lips. He was, however, able to nod.

"Positive?" Blaine asked, but rather than looking inquisitive, he just looked very small and a little scared.

Cooper nodded again, only this time their faces were so damn close that his lips brushed briefly against Blaine's. He froze.

"Blaine, I—"

Before he could even get the words out, his brother's mouth was crushed against his.

A whine died in Cooper's throat as Blaine slowly parted his lips—it was shaky, and inexperienced, and so utterly _Blaine_ that Cooper nearly died right then in there. His lips tasted like honey, and macaroni, and sunshine and hope, and just the _smallest _bit of danger that Cooper couldn't help but find absolutely addicting.

He was kissing his brother. Cooper Anderson, beyond all hope of repair, was kissing his brother—or rather, his brother was kissing him, but god_dammit_ was Cooper enjoying it.

He slid his fingers through Blaine's hair, laughing lightly against his mouth at the amount of gel. It only took a moment for him to gently free a few of Blaine's curls, at which point Cooper twirled one around his finger and gave a light tug, earning a soft moan that tumbled from his brother's lips.

It may have been the noise, or the fact that Blaine's hand was getting progressively lower on Cooper's back, or the increasing tightness of his jeans, but _something_ snapped Cooper out of it in that moment.

He took one step backwards, shock coloring his features.

A similar expression was painted on his brother's young face, his eyes even bigger than normal.

"Cooper," he said, his voice shaky, "I-I… I'm so sorry. I didn't…"

But Cooper only reached down to gently take Blaine's wrist. He slowly lifted it to his own lips and placed a gentle kiss there, the other boy's pulse beating just below his skin.

"Thank you," he whispered, intertwining his fingers with Blaine's rather than dropping his hand. "I won't do it again. I promise."

And this time, the words rang true 'till the day he died.

* * *

That was the first and last time Cooper and Blaine Anderson ever kissed.

Years and years passed, and they never spoke of the incident. Life went on as usual, and Blaine made it in the world with a relatively successful career as a Broadway understudy. He met a bartender in New York named Sebastian Smythe, who he eventually grew to love despite his stifling arrogance, and they were exceedingly happy in their small little flat once the other man was able to put his soon-to-be-husband before himself. It'd taken three break-ups and a denied proposal, but eventually they'd gotten there.

As for Cooper… kissing Blaine led to a groundbreaking realization that perhaps girls weren't the_ only_ gender he was interested in, and after a few years in California he met a man named Jesse on one of his trips back home to Ohio. The show choir coach had a hard exterior, but something about Cooper's smile seemed to crack his attitude after a few months—and while Blaine wasn't crazy about him, he had to admit that the guy _did_ have some great hair.

Blaine and Cooper never got their happily ever after. They never fell in love under a cherry blossom tree, never said "I do" in absolute secret, never grew old together in the same sort of _together _that they did with their respective partners—but that day in the bathroom _did_ change each of them for the better.

* * *

Nearing the end of Cooper's life, as he laid in his bed with his wrinkled face old calm and his brother sitting at his bedside, his slightly younger hand in his—he said one thing and one thing only before he drifted off to a better place.

"You were always enough, Squirt. I promise, you were always enough."


End file.
